


looking through your eyes

by msaudreyanne



Category: Anastasia (1997), Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drabble, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:41:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25415578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msaudreyanne/pseuds/msaudreyanne
Summary: Short drabble about Anya's famous Romanov eyes.
Relationships: Dimitri | Dmitry/Anya | Anastasia Romanov (Anastasia 1997 & Broadway)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	looking through your eyes

Anya’s eyes were famous.

The nurses in Perm would tell her she should consider herself lucky. Not everyone could be blessed with such beautiful crystal blue eyes. They were usually a gift only given to those of noble blood. She would have to be careful not to attract the wrong kind of people. Men sought pretty things and often left them destroyed, they would tell her.

Outside of the hospital, her eyes proved to be a curse, albeit not in the way the nurses had warned her. People would see her eyes and a strange look of almost recognition would wash over their faces. Then, as if remembering where they were and the dangers of such thoughts spoken aloud, they would shake themselves and go about their business as if they’d never met her.

Anya learned quickly to keep her head down, both figuratively and literally. She wasn’t sure why people seemed afraid of her when they’d look at her eyes, but she was no fool. Something about them unsettled people. Besides, it was safer to float under the radar, especially once she reached Petersburg. The less people knew of her, the better.

When she first met Vlad and Dmitry, the old man took one look at her eyes and turned pale as a ghost. His face quickly shifted into elation, though, as if he’d found the key to leaving this hell. Once they revealed their plan to her, dots started to connect in new ways. Did she look like a Romanov? Was that why people avoided her all these years?

_No…that was impossible…_

Just because her eyes were blue didn’t mean she was the lost Grand Duchess. Many people had blue eyes. Still, she would spend hours gazing at the Royal Family’s portrait in the once grand hall of the palace, trying desperately to find any resemblance.

_Stupid girl. Get your head out of the clouds. Those dreams will get you killed._

Dmitry didn’t seem to have a problem meeting her eyes. There were never any emotions that she could read in him other than annoyance or anger when he looked at her. It was refreshing, in a way. Finally, someone would see her as a person; would treat her as an equal. She enjoyed seeing his eyes light with fury when they’d argue over whatever petty little thing came up. He never backed away from her when her own eyes would flash with rage. Anya hadn't known how much she missed eye contact until Dmitry came along.

* * *

Once they made it out of Russia, Anya felt lighter somehow. She no longer felt the need to keep her head down around others. Who could possibly recognize a long-lost Romanov outside of Russia? She smiled more, too. She was truly, genuinely happy for the first time that she could remember.

She even found herself smiling at Dmitry. In fact, she found herself happiest when she was around him. He had changed as well, as soon as they had crossed the border out of Russia. Now that they weren’t running for their lives, he was actually…fun to be around. Oh, how he could make Anya laugh. It became almost a game for him, to see what it would take to get Anya laughing so carefree and full-bellied.

Anya would see him staring at her, almost dumbfounded that he was able to get such a reaction from her. She’d catch his eyes, sparkling in amusement and wonder, and then he’d quickly turn away from her.

Then came the night before the ballet.

As the memories flooded back to her, Anya watched with fascination and horror as Dmitry also processed the revelation that she was in fact Grand Duchess Anastasia Romanov. At first, his eyes spoke of awe and adoration, like he’d finally found his lost treasure. That quickly turned into intense sadness, like he was grieving what might have been. This thought was driven home when he pulled away from her, previously so close she could feel his breath against her cheek, to sink into a low bow in front of her.

As he muttered “Your Highness,” Anya felt her heart break. For so long, she had yearned to find her past. Now, a part of her cursed it all, especially her damned Romanov eyes, which Dmitry could no longer look at, it seemed.

Even when she met him at the ballet, in the most beautiful dress she’d ever seen, his eyes filled with anger and regret when he looked up at her from his shoe. She’d chosen this dress originally because it brought out her eyes. When she saw Dmitry though, she wanted nothing more than to be back on that train, safely out of Russia, but free from the weight of her past.

* * *

Later, on her grandfather’s bridge, as Dmitry bowed to her once more, Anya finally embraced her Romanov blood. She dug in to her stubbornness and slammed his suitcase down. She took a moment to appreciate Dmitry’s chocolate eyes as they filled with surprise and then hope. Anya then closed her eyes and kissed him soundly, gloved hands holding his face firmly in place. For a moment, she was worried that perhaps she’d read everything wrong. But then Dmitry’s arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her close against him.

When they parted, his eyes shown with unshed tears and what she hoped might be the love that she knew was reflected in her own eyes. His face lit up with his smile, dimple prominently displayed. It only appeared when he was well and truly happy, and Anya treasured it more than any tiara or title ever offered to her.

Dmitry leaned in to steal another quick kiss from her before he lifted her off his suitcase and spun her in his arms, much like the first time they’d danced together. The weightlessness Anya had felt then, and again when they’d escaped Russia, paled in comparison to how she felt in this moment. Dmitry no longer avoided her gaze. Instead, he seemed to never want to look away from Anya’s eyes, as if afraid he might have dreamt this all.

He offered her his arm – and his heart – to which she accepted eagerly. On to find their future with their heads held high, Anya no longer felt any reservations about her famous Romanov eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure where this came from, but I needed a break from life and this little piece was born. 
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> Thank you for reading and commenting/kudo-ing (if you want to!) 💛


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